South Park With An Older Twist
by Laura Barton
Summary: They thought grade four was hard? Now it's grade five. Will the boys get Mrs.Garrison for another year or is there someone new and horrible to face? Will this just be a repeat of the madness of grade four, or will life finally become normal? Hah! As if!
1. Episode 1: The Anger Bubble

**South Park With An Older Twist **

_This fanfiction is a continuation or "new season" of sorts of South Park With An Odd Twist (see author profile). It is unnecessary to read the last "season", but there may be some references to it that you don't understand. You may want to go to Episode 10 of South Park With An Odd Twist, however, to see what happened to Kenny. Enjoy._

_The characters, events and references to persons, places or things in this fanfiction are nearly entirely __fictional. There may be some bits of the aforementioned articles that are reality, however the majority is __fiction. This fiction will probably have some qualities that appear to be slanderous, however no slander is __intended with these pieces of writing.  
Also, serious situations and circumstances may be dealt with in this fanfiction in a sense that may seem __demeaning or naïve. All these things have been written with full understanding of the seriousness of the __situation/circumstance and have not been taken lightly.  
In conclusion, this fanfiction, much like the television show it is based off of has been written purely for __humourous reasons. If you don't like it, it is advisable that you do not continue reading.  
Due to this, as well as coarse language, possibly sexuality and potentially detailed horrific scenes, reader __discretion is advised. :D _

Episode 1: The Anger Bubble

Christ, it felt like summer had only just started; maybe it had. Summers were always weird in South Park, just like everything and everybody else, really. But summer felt especially short this year, as if it was giving way to some horrible creature.

"Bubalah, are you up yet?" Mrs. Broflovski called to the older of her two sons.

"Yeah, mom. I'm up," Kyle returned the call as he pulled on his green hat to hide his afro-like hair.

The ten-year-old grabbed his backpack from his bed, where it sat with a few new notebooks and a pencil case of new pens and pencils within. Not to mention a new calculator and protractor set as well. His mother hadn't spared him this year. He had zipped it up and then headed out of his room and down the stairs.

In the kitchen, he found his younger, adoptive sibling, Ike sitting and eating some toast and downing a glass of juice. His father was sitting there reading the morning paper, as any father would and his mother set down a plate of toast and an egg in the place where Kyle always sat. The young boy sat down after putting his schoolbag by his chair and accepted the food.

"Are you boys excited?" Sheila Broflovski cooed with a wide grin. She seemed pleased as punch and damn it was too early in the morning for that shit. Well, at least she wasn't pissed off about something.

"It's just another year of school, mah," Kyle commented.

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" his mother scolded and he quickly swallowed the food in his mouth. Her gazed softened again quickly. "And it's not just another year! Grade five, Kyle! And Ike in grade one! You grow up so fast!"

'Yeah, right,' Kyle scoffed silently. It had seemed like fourth grade and being nine went on forever. Even now he didn't feel any older or any different. It was just another year.

"Your mother's right, boys," Gerald Broflovski put in his two cents as he turned the page of the newspaper. One had to wonder if he even knew what he was agreeing to. He probably didn't care.

Kyle sighed, continuing to eat his breakfast in silence as his mother went on about how this year was going to be so great for them at school.

'It'll be great if we don't get Mrs. Garrison again this year…' he thought silently. 'Here's hoping…'

xxxxxxx

It was at school that Kyle came across his friends. His mother had insisted on driving her sons to school, as if it was college and they wouldn't know how to get there, so he hadn't seen them at the bus stop like he normally would. But it wasn't college. It was the same old school, with the same old stupid people… speaking of same old people…

Kyle stood at his new locker, one that was right outside of their new classroom. He only knew that it was his because a name tag with his name had been placed upon it. He was putting the things he didn't need in there, his lunch money included and was about to close it when he heard two familiar voices. Each bore a significantly different tone.

"Kyle!" the first greeted happily, as if they hadn't seen each other in forever. Well, Stan _had_ gone to visit relatives for the last week of summer vacation.

"If it isn't the Jew," Cartman's voice scathed, coming to stand beside Stan and staring at Kyle.

Cartman he had seen just yesterday in town, but by the sounds of it, it seemed like Cartman had been hoping Kyle would die overnight.

"Hey, dude," Kyle said to Stan with a smile. His tone turned darker as he looked to the largest of the three. "Cartman."

"If we get Mrs. Garrison again, will you kill yourself, Kyle?" he sounded hopeful. He stood with his large arms across his chest, and looked slightly like a bouncer at a club, save for his clothing.

Kyle just scoffed, not even bothering to dignify the question with a proper answer.

"Seriously, though. I hope we get a new teacher," Stan commented as they began to head down the hallway of students to the classroom.

"Who was the teacher last year?" Kyle asked with his backpack of the books he needed slung over his shoulder.

"They retired or something gay like that," Cartman snorted. "So they needed to find someone new."

"Shit. I hope it's not Garrison," Kyle cursed.

The trio entered into the classroom, where they saw their fellow classmates taking their seats. Quickly, the group of three boys took a set of seats near the back of the room so they could avoid whoever the teacher was. If it _was_ Mrs. Garrison, they'd surely hide.

The bell rang and any few remaining who had been standing took a seat. Kyle pulled out one of his new notebooks and pens, setting them on the desk. He then took the time to peer around the new classroom. Well, it wasn't new, but new to him.

The classroom was larger, even though the amount of students was the same as last year. There were ridiculous posters on all the white walls. These posters were on bulletin boards and taped to the walls themselves. One thing that was the same about each educational poster was that they looked like they should have been in a grade one classroom rather than a classroom of grade fives.

"Dude, are we in the right room?" Stan whispered to Kyle as he'd taken to looking around the room, too. Kyle could only shrug.

"Looks like this year's going to be easy as shit, guys," Cartman commented, showing approval for the posters. "And I doubt Garrison would put up posters like that."

"He's right. Mrs. Garrison would probably put up posters that are anti-government or something," Kyle agreed with a nod.

A moment later, a form came bustling into the room. From what they could see as the teacher arranged papers on their desk, it definitely wasn't Mrs. Garrison. She was a stocky woman who wore clothes that were much too tight for her. The pink sweater stretched over her back (as that was what was facing them) and came almost too short of her waist. Her black skirt was tight and short, her chubby calves clearly showing before a pair of white socks and black shoes took them. Her dirty blonde hair was in a tight bun atop her head.

"Okay, class," she said finally, seeming to have her papers in order. They noticed a distinct accent in her voice.

It wasn't until she turned around that they figured out the accent was Canadian. Her appearance was strikingly Canadian, but that wasn't the only thing they noticed about her.

"Jesus Christ!" Stan exclaimed a little more loudly than he'd intended. The rest of the class just gasped, inhaling sharply.

"What is it?" the woman demanded as they all stared with their mouths agape.

"Nothing!" Kyle said quickly, elbowing Stan in the side to make him snap out of it. This was only possible because the desks were grouped in convenient threes. Cartman sat to Stan's right while Kyle to his left.

"Class, my name is Mrs. Crackhead. I'll be your teacher for this year," she continued, writing her name on the board now.

The class didn't know whether to cheer or shriek. It was like with Nurse Gollum, except there wasn't a dead foetus on the woman's head. Instead, on the right side of Mrs. Crackhead's head, near the temple, there was a reddish lump. It looked almost like a bubble and despite how she'd obviously tried to hide it with her hair, it was visible.

When they saw her turn around from the blackboard, they all suppressed a laugh. Cartman was the only one who snickered audibly. Across the woman's chest and protruding stomach, chalk had collected from the board on her shirt. Her pink sweater was now streaked with white.

She seemed nervous, but ignored their laughter, picking up the lime green attendance sheet. She recoiled as it burned her eyes, but continued with taking attendance anyway. As she did so, she drew out a seat chart so that she knew where each of them sat. Cartman grinned wickedly as she did so; apparently he had other plans for her seating chart.

"This is our schedule for the year," Mrs. Crackhead said as she walked over to and showed them a particular bulletin board when she was done.

The wall had a large bulletin board on it, and several smaller sheets were laminated and tacked to the board. At the top, one said "Classroom Schedule", just under that, the days of the week and then on the left it showed the periods and the time slots. To the right of the periods and under the days of the week, it showed the classes they would be taking.

"We'll start the morning with math," she said and pointed to show that each day did indeed start with math.

"What the hell? Math? Are you crazy?" Cartman demanded. Although he thought the class was going to be easy, considering how they were being treated, math was still math. And there was no way in hell he would be taking math in the morning.

"No, I'm not crazy, Mr…" she looked on her seating plan, "Cartman. Don't speak to me like that again." She said this in an even tone, but Cartman could see that she was slightly frazzled by his outburst.

"You _are_ crazy," he muttered. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"Then, after math, we'll…" she continued on, but Kyle ignored her.

Kyle instead leaned over to talk to Stan.

"What is up with this lady?" Kyle whispered to his best friend.

"I don't know, dude. Maybe it's because she's from Canada?" Stan guessed with a shrug.

"No way. Ike's Canadian, and he turned out all right," Kyle shook his head.

"Yeah, but Ike grew up here, with you and your family," Stan pointed out, to which Kyle had to agree.

"Man, this lady is so weird. She's got a bug up her ass or something," Cartman leaned in to comment, too. "I bet she quits by Christmas."

"I doubt it. She seems like the kind to stick it out until the end no matter how bad it gets," Kyle said, even though he hadn't seen much of the woman's personality.

"I bet she's a French piece of shit, too," Cartman changed subject slightly.

"Boys," Mrs. Crackhead's voice spoke, catching the trio's attention. They stiffened slightly and immediately looked to her. "Pay attention, please."

"But we're not doing anything," Cartman insisted. "You're just standing there telling us what classes we'll have. What's the point of paying attention to that?"

"Mr. Cartman, none of that back-talking!" Mrs. Crackhead snapped, though again she looked frazzled.

"I'm just telling it like it is," Cartman continued.

"Dude, shut up. You're going to get us in trouble," Stan seethed.

"Any more of that and I'll send you to the principle's office!" Mrs. Crackhead warned. "Do you really want to go to the office on the first day of school?"

Cartman opened his mouth to say something, but shut up instead. Nah, it was too early to see the principle. Maybe later. He leaned back in his chair again, a smug smile playing on his lips slightly as he watched his new teacher.

Mrs. Crackhead turned away from Cartman and then headed back over to her desk. Beside it stood a book cart.

"Now, come up and take a text book. Don't lose them; they're expensive and if you lose it, you'll have to pay for it. Or your parents will, and I'm sure they won't be happy about it," Mrs. Crackhead said as she handed Wendy Testaburger, the first to have come to the cart since she was nearest to it, a book.

The other students also began filing up to get a text book, but Cartman refused to move from his seat.

"Kyle, get me a book, would you?" Cartman ordered, though worded it as a question.

"Get it yourself, fat boy," Kyle snapped as he and Stan stood to get their own. Yet, Cartman didn't join them. In the end, Kyle did get him a text book, but his deliverance of it was anything but nice. "Here, lardo," Kyle said, slamming the book into Cartman's stomach as he walked by.

"Aye!" Cartman growled after regaining his breath (the hit had knocked the air out of him). "You will respect my authoritay, Jew!" He aimed to trip Kyle as he walked by, but missed.

The children all took their seats again and Mrs. Crackhead instructed them to open to a certain page in their textbook. From some random reason or another, she was starting near the back.

"Yup, she must be French," Cartman muttered as she started writing out examples on the board and told them to copy them.

"Why?" Kyle questioned, beginning to write these questions down.

"'Cause she's starting from the back of the book. All French people read backwards," Cartman sighed, dragging out his own notebook and a pencil, which he sharpened with a hand sharpener.

"Dude, I think that's the Japanese," Stan commented, continuously looking from the board to the page he was writing on. He was definitely not used to taking notes. Neither was anyone else for that matter.

"Whatever," Cartman said dismissively. "I still say she's French."

Their morning continued like this for each class. There were notes, Mrs. Crackhead yelling at people (mainly Cartman as he complained about something) and much more chalk ending up on the front of the woman's clothing. When the bell for lunch rang, most of the class was more than happy to leave the room.

After quickly shoving things (including homework of all things; the horror) in their lockers, Stan, Kyle and Cartman rushed off to the cafeteria to get into line. After waiting for maybe two minutes, they finally reached the counter, where they were greeted by the new school chef. Apparently, his name was Cook. He was a middle-aged, Caucasian man who wore the apron of a chef, but not the cap. He was also a heavy-set guy, probably because he often tested a good deal of the food before he served it.

"Hello, children," the man greeted, much in the way Chef would, already spooning food onto plates and placing them on the three trays.

"Hey, Cook," they returned the greeting in sync, as per usual.

"How's the first day of school?" he asked conversationally, going to the refrigerator to get them something to drink.

Despite the fact that Cook was no Chef, they couldn't help but reply in the same way as always. Contrary to normal, though, they all spoke at once, but not the same answers.

"Shitty," Cartman declared.

"Okay," Kyle shrugged.

"Weird," Stan decided.

"Why… uh… shitty, okay and weird?" Cook was perplexed as he grabbed them some plastic utensils.

"The new teacher's a friggen French maniac," Cartman said. "A Canadian, French maniac, at that."

"You mean Mrs. Crackhead?" Cook asked and saw them all nod. "She's not so bad."

"She's weird," Stan said. "But better than Mrs. Garrison."

"No way, man! Mrs. Garrison didn't make us do shit all in class. Now we're taking notes and crap!" Cartman argued.

"You're holding up the line. Other kids would like their lunch, too," Cook told them and watched as they took their trays and continued to argue as they left. He sighed and prepared the next trays.

"You're just not used to having an actual class, Cartman," Kyle said as they headed to their seats.

"Nah-ah. She's just psycho," Cartman disagreed, sitting down and opening his small milk carton and taking a drink.

"I wouldn't say psycho, but-" Stan began.

"I would," Cartman interrupted, stabbing his fork into whatever was on his plate.

"But," Stan continued. "There is something weird about her. Did you notice that every time she got pissed off that… that… thing on her head, I dunno…"

"Pulsed?" Kyle supplied and saw Stan nod. "Yeah, I noticed it. Totally weird, dude."

"Maybe she's an alien," Cartman thought aloud with a mouthful of French fries. "That would explain everything."

Kyle just sighed and shook his head; Stan, on the other hand, seemed to agree. "Maybe, yeah."

"Oh come on," Kyle said after swallowing what he'd been chewing.

"It's not like aliens don't exist. Do I need to remind you of that time with Ike and-" Stan began.

"Yeah, yeah. The satellite came out of Cartman's ass, I know," Kyle interrupted.

"That was a dream, god damn it!" Cartman still insisted on saying it was a dream, one that he'd rather have not had them knowing about.

"I know she's weird and all that, but she just doesn't seem like an alien to me," Kyle shook his head.

"Who, Mrs. Crackhead?" Wendy asked as she and Bebe happened to walk by their table and pick up on the conversation.

"Yeah. Total alien," Cartman pressed.

"No way. She's just a normal teacher," Wendy sat her tray down and insisted on sitting at their table, forcing Stan and Kyle to shove over on the bench. Though she didn't seem to want to, Bebe took a seat beside Cartman, not about to leave her best friend.

"Except for that bubble, Wendy," Bebe piped up.

"I told you, Bebe. It's probably just some birth defect or something. You know, like Nurse Gollum," Wendy said pointedly, even pointing her fork matter-of-factly at the blonde.

"I agree with Wendy on this one," Kyle said.

"You two are such a cute couple," Cartman said with a smirk, which earned a packet of ketchup being thrown at him. "Aye!"

"Cartman, shut the hell up," Kyle snapped, picking up his fork again, though keeping another packet of ketchup close by.

"Come on guys. Maybe we should just try and make the best of this year. We _are_ free from Mrs. Garrison finally, right?" Stan broke the tension, though the comment of Kyle and Wendy being a couple made him a bit edgy. They weren't going out and it just seemed kind of weird. It brought him back to the whole experience of Mrs. Garrison's child-rearing experiment with the eggs.

"Yeah. No more Mrs. Garrison," Kyle nodded.

"No. Now we get someone way worse," Cartman said and they all just kind of looked at him. "I know these things guys! It's like a sixth sense!"

"Sure it is," Wendy shook her head, eating some of the salad that she'd told Cook to put on her plate.

"How can you think that someone with a strange bubble on their head is going to be good?" Cartman challenged.

Wendy just ignored him, but Cartman took it as a sign of defeat.

"See! See!" he said, downing the rest of his milk now. "This year's going to be way fucked up! It'll be grade four all over again… except worse!"


	2. Episode 2: Does the Ass Know?

**South Park With An Older Twist **

_The characters, events and references to persons, places or things in this fanfiction are nearly entirely fictional. There may be some bits of the aforementioned articles that are reality, however the majority is fiction. This fiction will probably have some qualities that appear to be slanderous, however no slander is intended with these pieces of writing.  
Also, serious situations and circumstances may be dealt with in this fanfiction in a sense that may seem demeaning or naïve. All these things have been written with full understanding of the seriousness of the situation/circumstance and have not been taken lightly.  
In conclusion, this fanfiction, much like the television show it is based off of has been written purely for humourous reasons. If you don't like it, it is advisable that you do not continue reading.  
Due to this, as well as coarse language, possibly sexuality and potentially detailed horrific scenes, reader discretion is advised. :D _

_Episode 2: Does the Ass Know?_

"I'm home, mah!" Kyle called as he got into the house and took off his boots and coat. While his mother had insisted on driving him to school, she seemed to have no issues with him taking the bus home. Oh well, at least he had more time to hang out with his friends.

He picked up his backpack, which he'd set down when he was taking his coat off, beginning to lug it up the stairs. Considering he had both a math text book and a history text book in it, it was pretty heavy.

"How was your first day back?" Sheila called from the base of the stairs, wiping her hands with a dish cloth, probably making some kind of food or another. "Do you have Mrs. Garrison again?" The tone in her voice seemed to imply that she hoped not. In all honesty, she was quite sick of Mrs. Garrison.

"No, mah," Kyle chose to ignore the first question and answer the second, standing where he was on the steps. "We have a new teacher this year."

"Oh, how lovely! Who is this new teacher?" Sheila asked with a grin.

Kyle's expression contorted slightly in disgust as he had an inkling that his mother was thinking of inviting the new teacher to dinner. Repressing a comment about how she shouldn't, he changed the subject.

"Can we talk about it later? I have lots of homework," he said, lifting his back to demonstrate that it was clearly heavy with books.

"Oh, of course, dear. We can talk at dinner," Sheila said with a nod, actually surprised that her son was bringing home homework. With Mrs. Garrison, there had rarely been homework.

Kyle sighed, hearing her slippered feet taking her back to whatever it was she had been doing. He, on the other hand, lugged his bag to his bedroom, dropping it on the floor beside his desk. Closing the blinds slightly to prevent the mid-afternoon sun from blinding him, Kyle took his seat at the desk, pulling out the two textbooks and the two notebooks he had for those subjects. His new pencil case, pencils, pens and calculator were next to come and sit on his desk.

The ten-year-old looked at the two text books and the pages on the notebooks where he'd written what questions he had to do. While the math homework consisted of more questions, the history homework would require a great deal more thinking, he felt. With this in mind, he pushed the history to the corner of his desk and started to work on the forty math questions he'd been given. At least they were easy.

Half-way through his homework, the telephone rang and he let his mom or dad (who'd gotten home not too long before) get it while continuing on with the last few math problems. He punched in the numbers on the calculator, picked the proper sign and then more numbers before the equals button, revealing the answer, which he wrote down on his page.

"Kyle! The phone's for you!" Gerald called from the base of the stairs and Kyle pushed away from his desk and went to get the phone.

"Thanks, dad," Kyle said, accepting the cordless phone from his dad before heading back upstairs. "Hello?" he greeted with question when he put the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Kyle."

Kyle found himself stopping a moment, knowing that voice well, despite that it sounded a bit different on the phone. After that moment, he shook himself and continued up the steps.

"What do you want, Cartman?" Kyle demanded. "I'm doing my homework."

"Well, see, that's just the thing. I want the an – I need your help figuring out question twelve," Cartman phrased carefully, but Kyle knew that he wanted to just get the answers and be done with it. "My calculator keeps saying error."

"Figure it out for yourself, Cartman. It's the same shit that we did in class," Kyle bit back, sitting in his chair again. The phone was between his ear and his shoulder as he picked up his pencil and started to work on the last question for the math problems.

"But, Kyle! I don't get it! I really need your help!" Cartman insisted, though his voice was far from the begging that his words implied.

"No," Kyle said, closing the text book and the math notebook and shoving them in his backpack. "Figure this out for yourself. It's not hard."

"Why do you have to be such a Jew-bag?! Hogging all the answers to yourself!" Cartman snapped. "I'll show you, Kyle! I don't need your god damned help! I'll get better than you!"

"Sure you will. Have fun with that," Kyle hit the 'end' button on the cordless with a roll of his eyes. He set the phone down on his desk, put away his pencil and calculator, and then pulled out a pen. For math, Mrs. Crackhead had been almost Nazi-like in her insistence that they use pencil and pen for anything else. "Fucking idiot," he muttered, taking one last look at the phone before setting to do the history questions.

Had it been Stan or someone else calling to ask for help, he would have helped, knowing full well that they wanted help and not just answers. Cartman, however, he knew was just fishing for the answers.

A while later, his mother bid him come down for dinner, to which he complied easily. His hand was starting to hurt from all the writing.

"So, Kyle. Tell me about this new teacher of yours," Sheila started off right away almost even before Kyle had sat down after washing his hands.

"She's definitely not Mrs. Garrison," Kyle snorted, scooping some potatoes onto his plate.

"Well, what's her name?" Sheila prodded gently as she passed around a bowl of something or another.

"Mrs. Crackhead. I think she's Canadian, too," Kyle said, buttering his dinner roll.

"Canadian?" Gerald inquired, looking up from what he'd been doing. "She's not teaching you English is she?"

"Yeah…" Kyle failed to see where his father was going with this and gave him a calculating look.

"Well we can't have that!"

"Gerald!" Sheila scolded sharply.

"What? Do we want our son coming home saying 'aboot' and 'eh' all the time?" Gerald looked sincerely alarmed by the idea.

Sheila sighed, "I'm sure that won't happen, right, bubalah?" She looked to her elder son. "Does she say those things all the time?"

Having to honestly think about it, he took a second before shaking his head. "Not really. Sometimes, but not a whole lot."

"Maybe she was just born Canadian and grew up here, then," Gerald speculated aloud, cutting the meat on his plate. "Otherwise I'm sure she'd be going on and on with her 'ehs' and 'aboots'." The man shook his head. "I really don't understand Canadian folk. Is it all that hard to say 'about' and not say 'eh'?"

"Well, why don't you ask her yourself? I was thinking of inviting her over for dinner for Thursday," Sheila announced. Of course by thinking she meant that she intended to do it and Kyle tried to suppress a groan, but failed.

"Ah, mah, do you have to?" Kyle whined, receiving a reproachful look immediately from his mother.

"Of course. She's new to South Park and it's a chance for us to meet your teacher," Sheila said matter-of-factly.

"But that's what parent interviews are for!" Kyle reminded.

Sheila seemed to think for a moment, "I suppose you're right about that." Mrs. Garrison had never held parent-teacher interviews except for when someone got into trouble, and then it was mostly a big bitch-fest. "Even still," the large woman continued on, "it'll give us a chance to know her on casual terms. Parent-teacher interviews are always so business-like." Not that she'd actually been to many, but she was assuming here.

Kyle knew that he was defeated and that his mother would find some way to refute his every point… not that he had any more points anyway. He'd hoped that maybe, just maybe the parent-teacher interview thing would work. He figured he should have known better.

"So, Ike, how was your first day back?" Sheila turned to her youngest now.

Kyle sat at the table with his elbow resting on the edge as his hand prevented his head from bashing into his plate a few times. Despite the food he would have all over his face, he really felt like doing just that. Maybe then his mother wouldn't invite the teacher over? Unlikely…

xxxxxxx

When Kyle got to the bus stop the next morning, since his mother was letting him take the bus, he was the first one there. He fixed his jacket, zipping it up more as the cold morning air blew slightly around him. His heavy backpack he let sit on the ground even though he knew that it was going to get wet from the snow. It was heavy though, so he didn't really give a shit. When it came to his back or his homework he was going to choose his back.

"Kyle," Cartman said simply as he arrived at the bus stop, but he said nothing more. He was obviously pissed as he pretended to be interested with something across the street.

The red-head didn't even bother to reply and only shook his head, waving as he saw Stan approaching at a run. Good thing too, since the bus was pulling up.

When the doors to the bus opened, there was yet another unfamiliar face for Kyle. Somehow, he realized, he hadn't much noticed the guy the previous day when taking the bus home, and he guessed that the driver hadn't noticed him either. He shrugged. The man was a scraggly looking thing with his facial hair, but otherwise looked perfectly normal. Yet, the moment Kyle took a step on the bus, the man seemed to have a fit.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wai' jus' a sec'!" he said with an almost hick-like tone. "Jus' whoh migh' yeh be?" The man instantly pulled out a clipboard with a thick stack of sheets on it.

"Uh," Kyle said stupidly, too perplexed to say anything of intelligence.

"Come on! I'm freezing my nuts off out here!" Cartman protested.

"Kyle Broflovski," the boy finally managed.

"Broflovski, huh?" the man questioned, though the way he pronounced the name it sounded more like 'broh-flohv-skih'. He flipped through the papers and nodded, satisfied when he found the proper sheet. "Whay wasn't yeh on der bus yusterday?"

"My, uh, mom wanted to take me to school…" Kyle said apprehensively, suddenly wondering if his mother had just fucked up his entire bus-year. Was the guy going to even let him on the bus?

"Weh, ah righ'. Beht nehx' tayme yeh be tullin' yer mah teh cah'," the man said, motioning for him to come on the bus as he put the clipboard away.

Kyle quickly stepped up the remaining steps and found an empty seat, a moment later joined by Stan with Cartman bitching about his frozen balls as he sat in the seat beside them.

"Christ, I thought the guy was going to murder me," Kyle commented as Stan took his seat.

"Yeah. Mr. Glenfield's a bit weird like that," Stan nodded. "He practically asked us all questions like a cop yesterday. Could hardly understand him half the time."

As they heard Cartman unzip and then rezip his backpack, the pair looked over, noticing that he was taking out a text book; looked like the math one. Stan and Kyle looked at each other and shrugged and looked back to Cartman.

"What are you doing?" Stan asked cautiously, wondering if he really wanted to know.

"Well, since some Jew-bag wouldn't help me with my homework last night, I have to find _some_ way of learning this bullshit," Cartman said after he'd placed the text book on the seat and sat back down, but not beside it…

"By sitting on a textbook?" Kyle cocked a brow.

"That's right, Jew." Cartman nodded, throwing a glare his way. "I figure I can absorb all I need to know by sitting on it."

Kyle snorted a laugh before saying, "So, what you're saying is that you ass is going to suck out all the information and take it to your brain?"

"You catch on quick," Cartman nodded. "And don't you dare say it won't work, Kyle! I'll kill you where you stand if you say it won't work!"

"It won't work," Kyle shrugged.

There was a growl from Cartman before he leapt from his seat. Pushing Stan aside, he made to attack Kyle, but was thrown forward as the bus suddenly stopped, causing any traffic behind them to slam on their brakes and honk their horns.

"Wha' teh hehll yeh theynk yeh's doin'!" Mr. Glenfield's voice shouted back at Cartman and Stan, both of whom were on the floor; Stan from being thrown there by Cartman and Cartman because of the sudden stop. "Yeh git bayck en yeh's sayts righ' naw! I'eh be tahkin' ter dah principeh abah thes!"

He stood there and glared at them, the rest of the children looking at the trio and the three in question stared on in disbelief. Stan quickly got up and took his seat, slinking down as far as possible to try and avoid the bus driver's wild glare. Cartman took a moment longer to get up, struggling with the close proximity of the seats, but finally standing. Unfortunately for him, it was at this time the Mr. Glenfield chose to notice the honking horns.

Storming down the aisle, Mr. Glenfield pushed Cartman forcefully into his seat and disregarded the protest that came from the large boy as he came to the rear emergency exit. He threw the door open, causing the buzzer to go off and began shouting at the drivers in their cars.

"Shet teh heh eup! Thehs a' ehmergenceh hyah!" the man shouted whilst the children all covered their ears because of the buzzer. Slamming the door back up, he stomped back to the front of the bus and sat down. He seemed to almost rip the seat belt off of where it was bolted to the side of the bus and then practically punched a button to make the emergency buzzer go off. As he began driving again, he said, "Naw, jus' set tha an' dun do nuttin'!"

All complied, even Cartman as he sat back down on his book.

xxxxxxx

"I thought we were all going to die," Kyle said, still shaken as he put what he didn't need in his locker, leaving his math book out since that was the first class. History was later in the day.

"I know what you mean. I saw him storming into Principal Victoria's office like a rabid dog," Stan shuddered, leaning against the lockers as he waited for Kyle.

Walking into the classroom, they saw that most were already there, including Cartman, who was sitting once again on his math textbook. As Kyle walked by, he glared.

"Way to go get us in trouble, asshole," Cartman growled. "If I lose my bus privileges because of you-"

"_You're_ the dick who attacked _me_! All I said was that it wasn't going to work!" Kyle said, slamming his textbook down on his desk. As he sat down, he said nothing more to Cartman.

Stan sighed, quite used to their bickering. In this case, he did hope that he didn't lose his bus ride to school. Though South Park was fairly small, he didn't feel like walking. Especially not if there were textbooks in his bag like there were today.

As the bell rang, Mrs. Crackhead came walking into the room, putting her own books on her desk and then proceeding to take attendance. Cartman cursed. He was so pissed off that he'd forgotten about screwing with the seating plan. Oh well, there was always tomorrow, or even after lunch.

When Mrs. Crackhead turned toward the blackboard to start writing the math problems out that they'd done for homework, Cartman slipped the textbook out from under him and set it on his desk. He took out his notebook, confirming the page number and then opening the text to the right page.

"So, today we're not going to mark our work for grading, but to see where each of us is at. Is there anyone who would like to volunteer the answer for the first question?" she asked, looking around the room.

The class could practically hear crickets chirruping and eyes glanced around nervously. Finally, a sigh came from the front of the room and a hand was raised.

"Yes, Wendy," Mrs. Crackhead said with a nervous smile. She'd been worried that no one was going to speak.

"The answer is 24," she said, resting her chin in the palm of her hand in boredom. In her opinion, this class was far beneath her. Long division was nothing.

"I'm afraid not, Wendy. The answer is 25. You probably just forgot to round up with the decimal point," Mrs. Crackhead frowned slightly, but quickly smiled again. "It's okay, you'll get it."

Wendy, however, looked appalled. "No," she said categorically. "The answer is definitely 24. With the decimal points it's 24.4532. So, there would be no rounding up because the first decimal isn't five or higher."

"You would be right except that it's 24.45, as you said. So you'd use the five in the decimal to round up the four. The four would of course become five. Then the five would make you round twenty-four up to twenty-five," Mrs. Crackhead explained, showing them on one of the blank areas of the blackboard what she meant.

Wendy looked further appalled. "No," she said, again with the categorical voice. She even got up from her seat and took the chalk from Mrs. Crackhead's hand and erased what she'd written to demonstrate her own explanation. "If you use the five to round the four," she said, pointing to the two decimal points with the chalk, "then it becomes 24.5. You don't round twice." Wendy placed the chalk less than calmly back in the little curved ledge at the base of the chalkboard and went back to her seat.

"I don't think so, Wendy," Mrs. Crackhead tried to refute it, but looked doubtful now of her own words, studying the way Wendy explained it.

"She's right, you know." All turned to look at Kyle as he said this, Wendy glaring as if demanding him to say that she misunderstood what he'd just said. "Wendy's right, I mean. It says it right here in the textbook."

"And just what page is that?" Mrs. Crackhead questioned.

"The page that the homework is on. In the explanation, it says it right there," Kyle pointed to the top of the page that the homework was on and everyone instantly looked to their books, including Mrs. Crackhead, who looked at the teacher's answers that she obviously hadn't been using.

Once they'd all read the page, they looked to Mrs. Crackhead, who'd paled before flushing with embarrassment, which she tried to hide.

"Well, uh. I suppose you're right then…" Mrs. Crackhead conceded in a small voice. "Next question!" she quickly ushered on, making sure that it was right in her book before asking someone to answer.

"Good job there, Kyle. Standing up for your girlfriend?" Cartman sneered with a wicked grin.

"Shut the hell up, Cartman," Kyle snapped, throwing a glare at Cartman before returning his attention to the front.

"How about Eric answers the next question," Mrs. Crackhead said more than asked.

Cartman's sneer fell and he was now the one to pale, but he quickly came back from it, and much better than Mrs. Crackhead. "All right then!" He looked at the question on the board, then in his book to make sure the stupid ass hadn't copied it out wrong when she was writing it. "The answer is obviously," he closed his eyes, as if drawing the information from somewhere within him. "Obviously it's fifty," Cartman answered after a moment, opening his eyes again.

"Close, Eric. But you need to round it up one to fifty-one, since the answer is 50.6," Mrs. Crackhead said with a small smile. "Good try."

"Fifty-one is what I meant. I just forgot to say the one," Cartman insisted, ignoring the scoff that came from Kyle's direction. As Mrs. Crackhead went on, he leaned forward, looking past Stan to Kyle. "What you got to say to that, Jew? How else could I have known the answer?!" he demanded in a whisper.

"It was one of the questions you did last night, and even then you got it wrong," Kyle said, pointing with his pencil at Cartman's notebook. "Answer number twelve when we get to it. I bet you'll get it wrong."

Cartman smirked, "You should know better than to make bets with me, Kyle. I _always_ win. So, what do you wager?"

"Half your lunch money," Kyle replied after a second's thought. "Still want to bet?"

"I have nothing to worry about, since I'm going to win, after all." Cartman leaned back smugly in his chair.

"And no figuring it out now," Kyle ordered. "Give Stan your calculator and pencil and shit."

"Wha? Why me?" Stan asked, as he'd been quite happy to stay out of this.

"Then he can't bitch about how I'll curse it or something retarded like that," Kyle said as Cartman agreed and shoved his things on Stan's desk.

When it finally came time to answer question twelve, Mrs. Crackhead once again asked for volunteers, but since people had stopped answering, even Wendy, she was prepared to answer it for herself. She was surprised to see a hand go into the air.

"Eric?" she questioned and when she saw the boy nod, she broke into a grin. "Well then, all right. What do you have as the answer?"

Cartman stared at the blackboard and then at his math textbook. 'Give me the answers, god damn you!' he thought savagely. "It's zero," he said, something clicking in his mind. 'Yeah, that's it,' he thought, 'when the number and zero are divided together you get zero.' 

A grin broke out on his face and he looked over at Kyle, who was only shaking his head. Cartman's grin fell and he looked to Mrs. Crackhead with a fury in his eyes. Those eyes begged for her to put Kyle in his place.

"Actually," Mrs. Crackhead said and Cartman's heart beat wildly. "The question is a trick question. It's impossible."

"What?" Cartman snapped, not even noticing as Stan pushed his things back onto his desk.

"If the question had been zero divided by nine-thousand one-hundred and eleven, then yes, the answer would be zero. But it's the other way, and you cannot divide a number by zero," Mrs. Crackhead said, though she seemed to doubt herself. She looked to Wendy and Kyle, who seemed to know the most, and saw both nod and felt relieved.

"No! It can't be!" Cartman argued.

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Cartman. Now, question thirteen-" she began, turning back to the board, but she jumped in surprise.

"Lies!" Cartman shouted. "He put you up to this, didn't he?!" Cartman demanded, pointing at Kyle.

"What? No! Of course not!" Mrs. Crackhead said, alarmed.

"Yeah, right! The conniving Jew probably paid you to tell me that I'm wrong!" Cartman looked about to throw his desk at the wall, if he could lift it.

"Calm down, Eric!" Mrs. Crackhead ordered, though her voice was a little frightened.

"N-!" Cartman began to say no, but then noticed the bubble on her head. The whole class seemed to notice, too, for there was a collective gasp.

"Eric Cartman! You will sit quietly in your seat or else I will send you to the office!" Mrs. Crackhead yelled, the bubble pulsing as she did. Her eyes were very narrow, and it would later be said that they were glowing red, too. Her face had gone beat red, at least.

Cartman weighed his options. Sit in this stupid class or listen to Principal Victoria and Mr. Mackey bitch at him for this as well as what happened on the bus earlier. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, glaring.

"I don't like that look on your face!" Mrs. Crackhead snapped. "You have a very bad attitude! If you don't stop that right now-!" She saw Cartman's face fall to expressionless. "That's better," she said, calming down a bit. "Now! Back to math!"

For the rest of the period, she didn't even bother to ask anyone else for the answers, writing them all in herself on the board. She broke five pieces of chalk in doing so and half of these answers were smudged, considering her stomach and chest rubbed against the board because of her size, but none dared complain. When that was done, she slammed the chalk down on her desk, breaking it like the rest and mutely walked out of the classroom. Some swore they saw tears in her eyes.

"Jesus Christ," Stan breathed out a long breath that he hadn't been aware he was holding.

"No kidding…" Kyle did the same, staring wide eyed at the door she'd slammed as she left. "What in the fuck is wrong with her?" Kyle didn't wait for anyone to answer, in fact, remembering something far more important in that moment. "Oh shit! And my mom's inviting that nutcase to dinner!" He actually let his head slam against his desk.

"Christ, Kyle!" Stan declared in alarm because of the sound the contact had made.

"That's what you deserve, asshole!" Cartman snapped. "I hope your mother pisses her off so much with her Jew ways that the bitch kills you!"

The thing was, Kyle couldn't help but think that that was just what would happen.


	3. Episode 3:Dinos & Surgery for Idiots,Pt1

**South Park With An Older Twist

* * *

**_The characters, events and references to persons, places or things in this fanfiction are nearly entirely fictional. There may be some bits of the aforementioned articles that are reality, however the majority is fiction. This fiction will probably have some qualities that appear to be slanderous, however no slander is intended with these pieces of writing.  
Also, serious situations and circumstances may be dealt with in this fanfiction in a sense that may seem demeaning or naïve. All these things have been written with full understanding of the seriousness of the situation/circumstance and have not been taken lightly. It's called humour.  
In conclusion, this fanfiction, much like the television show it is based off of has been written purely for humourous reasons. If you don't like it, it is advisable that you do not continue reading.  
Due to this, as well as coarse language, possibly sexuality and potentially detailed horrific scenes, reader discretion is advised. :D_**

* * *

**_Episode 03: Dinosaurs and Surgery for Idiots, Part I_

As Kyle, Cartman and Stan walked back towards the classroom after lunch, they didn't know how Mrs. Crackhead was going to react. Was she going to pretend like nothing happened? Was she going to give them tons and tons of homework?

"She'll probably give _you_ tons of homework," Kyle said to Cartman.

"What?! Why?" Cartman looked appalled and had nearly dropped his milk carton since he hadn't finished his beverage at lunch. Fortunately, he caught it, a proceeded to down the rest of it before tossing it in the trash.

"Because you pissed her off," Kyle shrugged, walking in the classroom now and heading to his seat. He pulled out his English notebook and set it atop his desk.

"If that bitch gives me even one more question than you guys, I'll…" Cartman pondered over what consequences he could issue out.

"You'll what?" Stan asked, cocking a brow with a slight grin. He knew well that whatever threat Cartman was going to issue out would be an empty one, but he also hoped that it would give him a good laugh, too.

"I'll kick her squa' in the baws!" Cartman declared, plopping down in his seat with defiance.

"She doesn't have balls, genius," Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Oh, and you would know wouldn't you?" Cartman laughed, looking over at him. "Or you will know soon, anyway. You'll have to tell us all about it after she goes to your house for dinner!"

"Sick, dude!" Stan protested, a disgusted look on his face.

Kyle threw a pen at Cartman and it pegged him right in the side of the head, near his eye. Cartman's face paled before it reddened with anger.

"You son of a bitch!" Cartman roared, going between words slowly. "You could have taken my eye out!"

"Might have been an improvement," Kyle countered.

Cartman looked as if he was about to retaliate even more than simply with words, but Mrs. Crackhead walked into the room. Her pace was swift and her head held high, as if nothing had happened earlier in the day. It looked like she was going to pretend that it didn't happen. Probably better that way.

"All right, kids," she began. "I hope you all had a good lunch. If you kids will all take out your English notebooks, we're going to do some grammar."

There was a mass of grumbles that rippled through the room, but they all got their notebooks out just the same, not wanting to tempt the woman into another fit of rage. Cartman picked up the pen that Kyle had thrown at him now, snapping it in half and tossing it back onto Kyle's desk.

"Use it now, asshole," he muttered as he pulled out the notebook that had Terrance and Phillip on the front out and set in on his desk. He opened it up and got ready to do some quality work during class. Doodling.

"Okay, kids," Mrs. Crackhead began, and Kyle was beginning to think that she was using the word 'kids' too much. He wondered if she was doing it to remind herself that she would have a lawsuit if she attacked them. "Now we're going to learn about nouns and verbs. Can someone tell me what a noun is?" She looked out over the class. "Wendy," she nodded, seeing the girl's hand in the air.

"A noun is a person, place or thing," Wendy said and grinned when Mrs. Crackhead nodded.

"That's right, Wendy," the woman did indeed nod. "Can anyone give us an example? How about Stan?"

"Uh," he said, looking around the room for something random. "Bubble," he blurted, quickly wishing he hadn't.

"Dude," Kyle whispered tensely, though Mrs. Crackhead made no indication that she knew what he was referring to.

"That's right, Stan. A bubble is a noun." She wrote the example on the board before turning back to the class again. "Now, what's a verb? Tweek?"

"Ah! Too much pressure!" the child twitched violently, but Mrs. Crackhead, knowing of his twitches, made no comment. She was concerned, yes, but unless he started into true convulsions she was told not to make a scene of it.

"Okay then," she said quickly, trying to pacify the child. "How about someone else? Bebe?"

"A verb is an action word. It tells us what the something is doing," Bebe answered hesitantly, but when she saw Wendy give her a thumbs up, she calmed.

"That's right. Does anyone have an example?" Mrs. Crackhead wrote Bebe's explanation of 'verb' on the board. "Craig?"

"Screw," Craig replied without hesitation.

"Good job," she praised, writing that on the board as well. "'To screw', like something that would be done to a screw, the object, is a verb. Verbs in their main form have the word 'to' in front of them. So chances are words that you can put the word 'to' in front of are verbs. Like 'to breathe' or 'to play'."

Mrs. Crackhead took a moment to write some individual words on the board and then turned back to the students, oblivious to all the chalk now on the front of her shirt. She glared mildly at the few who snickered at her, which shut them up pretty quickly.

"Now we're going to get some practice identifying nouns and verbs," she informed the class. "Who can tell me what the word 'doggy' is?"

"Doggy is a noun," Butters said proudly.

"Very good," Mrs. Crackhead wrote 'noun' beside the word. "Now how about Montana? Yes, Wendy?"

Wendy, who'd been waving her hand wildly in the air, spoke with a grin to show her vast intelligence. "Montana is a proper noun," she said. "It's the name of a place, so it's not a regular noun. It can also be called a proper name."

"Yes, yes! Excellent, Wendy," Mrs. Crackhead grinned widely before writing that on the board as well.

Cartman looked up from his doodle of a cat… or a whale… or whatever it was and over at Wendy's smug grin and mimicked it with cruel exaggeration. Who the hell did she think she was?

"Eric, how about you tell us what the word 'pillow' is?" Mrs. Crackhead called on him, noticing that he wasn't paying attention.

"No, that's all right. I think Kyle would much rather tell you," Cartman responded, receiving laughs from some in the class.

"I don't want Kyle to tell me. I want you to tell me," she insisted.

"Pillow… is… a… noun," he took a guess, considering all the others had been nouns so far.

"Right," she turned to the board. "Cartman, you can also tell us what the word 'mock' is."

Cartman's face contorted in confusion, an eyebrow raised in question. 'Mock'? What the hell kind of word was that? He was considering not answering, but seeing Kyle's expression of challenge, he couldn't resist.

"Well," Cartman began, giving off his own smug air now. "Mock is obviously a verb." He looked at his fingernails, as if they held some importance.

"Very good." She continued giving a few other examples of verbs before directing their attention to a few sentences she'd written. "Now, write these down in your notebooks and underline the nouns and circle the verbs. These are for homework, but we'll do the first one together."

Cartman grumbled, bitching about how it was hard to read her writing, but wasn't about to take the chance of her checking that he'd actually done it. Better to just write the damn thing down.

Kyle, on the other hand, had taken down all that had been discussed in class so far. Having already written all the sentences down, he took the time to try and figure the first one out on his own. He was pretty confident, but didn't want to go onto the rest until he was entirely sure that he was right. He glanced over, noticing that Stan was doing the same.

"Do you think that one's a noun?" Stan pointed to a word on his page.

"No. I think that one's something else," Kyle whispered with a shake of his head.

"Like what?" Stan asked, looking at him, but Kyle just shrugged.

"All right. Everyone got those down?" Mrs. Crackhead smiled when everyone nodded. "Good. Now in the sentence," she pointed to the first one, "'The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog', which are nouns and which are verbs? How about you, Kyle?"

"'Jumps' is the verb," Kyle said and seeing Mrs. Crackhead circle it on the board, he knew he was right.

"Good. Are there any other verbs?" Mrs. Crackhead asked, but Kyle shook his head. "Right you are. 'Jumps' is the only verb in the sentence. Now for nouns. Token, you can answer this one."

Token looked miffed, as if he knew exaclty why he was picked for this one. "Brown is a noun."

"No," Mrs. Crackhead shook her head. "Brown is an adjective. We haven't covered those yet."

"Obviously," Cartman muttered irritably, doodling this time a giraffe… or was it a squirrel? Maybe a tree?

"The nouns in this sentence, since there are two of them, are fox and dog. Does everyone think they'll be fine doing the rest of the homework?" Mrs. Crackhead asked and everyone nodded. "All right. I'll give you some time to do some now, but then we're going to move onto some History work."

As the school day came to a close and as Kyle got home from school, the dread began to set in. Was Mrs. Crackhead coming to the house tonight for dinner? Maybe his mom had changed her mind. Yeah, maybe.

"No," Kyle muttered, contradicting his thoughts and shaking his head. He knew his mother too well and knew there was no way that she was going to change her mind once she'd decided upon something. He left his backpack at the bottom of the stairs for now and headed into the living room, where he sat on the couch and turned on Terrance and Phillip.

"Kyle! Can't you even say hello when you get home?" Sheila Broflovski scolded, poking her head in the room.

"Hi mom," Kyle quickly said, throwing a smile her way for good measure.

"That's better. Do you have any homework tonight, bubalah?" she asked, a smile appearing on her own face.

"No, mah," he lied. He did have a few questions for English and of course there was Math, but he would do those later. He wanted to watch Terrance and Phillip right now.

"You better not be fibbing, Kyle. 'Cause I'll just ask Mrs. Crackhead when she and her husband come over tonight!" she laughed, leaving the room.

Kyle's face paled and then he groaned irritably. "God damn it," he muttered and though he tried to watch Terrance and Phillip, he just couldn't get it out of the back of his mind that he would have to do his homework before his teacher came over. He knew his mom would ask her about any homework, and then would check his schoolbag for it when he wasn't looking. He flicked off the television and drudged up the stairs, dragging his backpack along behind.

Later in the evening, whilst watching the news with his father, dressed nicely and waiting for their dinner guests, Kyle heard a very odd report.

"This is World News Today," the reporter announced. "Welcome back."

Kyle's father insisted on watching the world news, rather than what the South Park local news station had to offer. While on the local cable network this station wouldn't come in, Gerald Broflovski had taken it upon himself to buy a satellite dish, which he installed to the roof of the house. Now the family got somewhere around 900 channels… too bad that even with 900 channels there was still nothing good to watch half of the time.

"Recently, news of a new fad has been circulating through our country. It seems, to fit in people, mostly teenagers, are going under the knife. This is no simple plastic surgery however," the female reporter that had appeared on the screen announced. "No. This surgery, referred to by some as 'Stupid Surgery' gives the patient a 60 point IQ reduction."

"What?" Kyle thought aloud with a tone of disgust in his voice. He looked to his father, who only seemed intrigued.

"As unbelievable as it seems, it's true. Teens everywhere are getting 'Stupid Surgery' in order to fit in with their friends and peers. There is word that some adults are doing the same to fit in, in the workplace, however, at this point it is mostly the teenage populace that has taken to this surgery in storm. This is what people have to say about this bizarre surgery."

The image flipped to a doctor, a psychologist, apparently. He was sitting in front of a shelf of books, looking smart.

"These kids just want to fit in. The smart kids have always been outcasts in our country, so now that these 'nerds' have the opportunity to fit in, they're jumping on the chance."

The image flipped to a sixteen-year-old named Ben, who was dressed in 'gangster' apparel. It said under his name 'former science genius'.

"Before my surgery, I thought that science was so sick. I had no friends, but now I got my hommies and we hang out all the time and party! My shorty and I hang out all the time, too." He seemed terribly pleased with himself.

Kyle wasn't sure he understood what that kid just said, but he got the point. He went from being a science genius to a complete moron with this surgery. It was hard to believe that people would actually do this to themselves, not to mention let their kids do this. The ten-year-old could only shake his head and didn't pay attention to the rest of that report.

It wasn't long after that that the doorbell rang and Sheila was rushing to the front door declaring that she would get it. Before she opened the door, though, she turned to her husband and two sons.

"Now boys," she addressed all of them. "You be on your best behaviour. I don't want to embarrass the woman and I certainly don't want you to make us look like idiots!" She snapped all these orders in a sharp whisper, then put on a smile, and opened the door. "Mrs. Crackhead! Mr. Crackhead! How are you tonight? Come in, come in."

She ushered the Canadian couple into the house, closed the door, took their coats and immediately began to lead them to the dining room. Kyle, his father and his brother followed close behind.

"I'm very good, thank you, Mrs. Broflovski," Mrs. Crackhead grinned.

"Oh, please, dear, call me Sheila," she said as she sat them down in their assigned seats.

"Thank you for having us for dinner, Sheila," Mr. Crackhead said, his voice very deep.

Mrs. Crackhead's husband was also a stout person, but he didn't outweigh his wife. Though it looked like a few of the buttons on his suit were about to pop off, he didn't look like he would break one of the dining room chairs if he sat on it. His hair was a very light blond and his hairline was already receding, even though he didn't look old enough for it to be doing so. They were a young couple, but their figures added years to their appearances.

Mrs. Crackhead wore what seemed to be normal for her. A nicer shirt and a skirt that revealed her calves. It did look like she put on some makeup though, and Kyle noticed that she was still trying to cover her bubble with her hair.

"How do you like it here in South Park?" Sheila asked, continuing with conversation when no one else seemed like they were going to speak. She was serving the food to their guests as well, but glared when her sons had the gall to think she was going to serve them.

"It's nice," Mr. Crackhead grinned. "It's quiet and nothing like where we came from."

"Where did you live before?" Gerald took up asking, studying very discreetly, but very carefully the way that the Canadian pair was speaking. So far no 'aboots' or 'ehs', but he wasn't satisfied yet.

"In Toronto. That's a big city in Ontario," Mr. Crackhead clarified when it seemed they had no idea where Toronto was. "So going from a huge city like that to little South Park is a nice change. Even better that Deb can work here as a teacher, too." He smiled at his wife, who returned the smile.

Kyle sat in silence through the majority of the meal, only answering questions when asked them directly. He ate what was on his plate, didn't complain and made very little eye contact. He did notice the odd interaction between Mrs. Crackhead and her husband, though. To him, it seemed almost like she was his daughter rather than his wife, which grossed him out, but then there were moments when they did look like a normal couple.

After the meal, while they were all simply sitting and talking with their empty plates sitting in front of them, Mr. Crackhead brought up something he'd heard.

"Did you folks hear about the dinosaur that's been spotted?"

"Dinosaur?" Gerald cocked a disbelieving, though equally alarmed eyebrow.

Mr. Crackhead nodded. "A t-rex, actually. Word is that a time portal appeared in the sky over a trailer park and out comes this t-rex! Completely destroyed the place and it still hasn't been caught."

"What? How could it not have been caught?" Kyle, ever the sceptic, wanted to blatantly call Mr. Crackhead an idiot, but he knew his mother would give him an earful and a grounding later if he did. Even as it was, she was giving him a warning look.

"The authorities are trying to figure out a way to take it down. And they're not too worried yet since it hasn't eaten anyone," Mr. Crackhead said with a shrug. "I saw an article about it in a newspaper and I've heard people talking. They say that it's headed this way."

Kyle resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This sounded like something Cartman would say. Though… the leprechaun had been real… Was Imaginationland breaking loose again? Shit… he'd better check this out.

xxxxxxx

"So Kyle," Cartman began in his taunting voice as soon as he got to the bus stop the next morning. "How was dinner with Mrs. Crackhead? Did you have a nice evening, Kyle?"

For the moment, Kyle ignored his taunts, turning his attention to Stan. "Have you heard any weird reports lately? Something about a t-rex."

"Oh yeah," Stan nodded. "My dad was going on about it last night. They're going to have a town meeting later to try and find out how to get rid of it. Or at least stop it from coming here."

"It's true then…" Kyle trailed off.

Stan shrugged. "Maybe. You know how the people in our town get. Why? Did you hear something?"

"It's just that Mr. Crackhead-"

"That bitch is married? Holy shit," Cartman interjected. "He must be insane. Or blind or-"

"Mr. Crackhead," Kyle spoke louder, "said that he read about it in a paper, and that he's heard people talking about it."

"So? It could be complete bullshit," Stan shrugged again, though could tell that Kyle was concerned.

"You forget Imaginationland so easily, Stan," Cartman waved a disapproving finger in the boy's face.

"That's exactly what I was thinking. Are our imaginations running wild again?" Kyle noticed Stan's expression change to one of sudden realization.

"Shit," he said. "This can't be good."

"I mean, I hope we're all just blowing this out of proportion, but what if?" Kyle asked.

"We have to do something," Stan decided as the bus was pulling up before them.

"Guhd murnin'," Mr. Glenfield greeted as the boys stepped onto the bus. When they were seated, he started down the road again.

"We have to go to that town meeting, dude," Kyle said finally from where he was sitting next to Stan. "See what they know. Then we can come up with something to do."

"We should just nuke the god damned thing back to where it came from," Cartman declared. "Get George Bush to sign some piece of shit that says we can and then kablamo! No more t-rex."

Stan looked from Cartman back to Kyle. "He could be right, you know."

Kyle sighed, nodding at his best friend. "Yeah… I know."

_To be continued..._

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**Disclaimer:** I, Laura Barton, did _not_ come up with the original idea of 'Stupid Surgery', nor the dinosaur coming out of a time portal. These ideas came from the tabloid newspaper **Weekly World News**. Check the July 24, 2006 issue to see the articles for these stories. Check out the newspaper in general for a good laugh.

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